"Let's see." Gloria moved after him and the other two followed her.
"Let's sit out here," she suggested. "I like it much better."

Anthony and Dick converted a long box into a backrest and found a board
dry enough for Gloria to sit on. Anthony dropped down beside her and
with some effort Dick hoisted himself onto an apple-barrel near them.

"Tana went to sleep in the porch hammock," he remarked. "We carried him
in and left him next to the kitchen stove to dry. He was drenched to
the skin."

"That awful little man!" sighed Gloria.

"How do you do!" The voice, sonorous and funereal, had come from above,
and they looked up startled to find that in some manner Maury had
climbed to the roof of the shed, where he sat dangling his feet over the
edge, outlined as a shadowy and fantastic gargoyle against the now
brilliant sky.

"It must be for such occasions as this," he began softly, his words
having the effect of floating down from an immense height and settling
softly upon his auditors, "that the righteous of the land decorate the
railroads with bill-boards asserting in red and yellow that 'Jesus
Christ is God,' placing them, appropriately enough, next to
announcements that 'Gunter's Whiskey is Good.'"

There was gentle laughter and the three below kept their heads tilted
upward.

"I think I shall tell you the story of my education," continued Maury,